


Testing, testing

by towardsmorning



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Drug Use, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-28
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towardsmorning/pseuds/towardsmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>(Prompt: Mycroft and Sherlock don't get along because when Sherlock was quitting cocaine and asked Mycroft for help, all his brother did was lock him in a clinic and not bother to visit or call for months, even though Sherlock often tried to reach him.)</i></p><p>Mycroft does nothing without reason, his mind argues: this <i>must</i> be a test.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing, testing

Sherlock fires the message for help off in desperation and regrets doing so the second it's sent. There are a million different feelings sitting under that regret- shame at needing _help_ with what was never supposed to even be a _problem_ , shame at needing help from his brother of all people, the uneasy knowledge that Mycroft will take one look at the message and see straight through all his walls and barriers as though they were nothing but glass windows in front of a specimen.

(But there's a little bit of hope in there that never quite leaves, too.)

He sits, and waits, clenches his fists and doesn't make a sound. His internal clock has long since ceased to be remotely accurate by now, drowned out by the little whisper that's shouting about _need_ in his ear, but he doesn't think it's been very long before he hears the car pull up outside.

*

Mycroft wasn't actually _in_ the car, but that had been more or less expected. His brother doesn't like to make house calls, after all.

The place he's taken to is discreet, and quiet, and mind-numbingly _boring_ , or at least he suspects it would be if he was capable of truly paying attention to such things at the moment. There _is_ a second when, just outside the doors, he considers bolting. But that would be giving up, and giving up in front of Mycroft no less, so he tightens his jaw and breathes deeply before stepping in.

He learns inside that the course Mycroft has decided upon- and of course it's all Mycroft's will, here, everything arranged and in its place- is several months, in more or less total isolation. He makes a note to confront his brother about how ridiculous this all is when he next sees him.

*

Detox is two and a half weeks of hell, hell which then simply continues uninhibited after as though he hasn't been moved onto the second stage at all. He's torn between feeling like he's played into his brother's hands by doing this (never pleasant) and feeling like he's proved a point (much better).

Sherlock waits until it's over to get in touch with Mycroft, though. It's a concrete achievement to hold over his brother, something real in a place where he hasn't got much else to offer.

Texts go unheeded. (He thinks this is Mycroft's petty way of saying that he isn't actually supposed to have his phone.) After a day of this, he finally gives in and rings the other man, knowing the novelty of this event will be a challenge for Mycroft.

He knows wrong.

*

A month in and he gives up on calling. His mind, devoid of any other stimulus and still scratching its way through his skull for some _bloody cocaine_ , starts to turn in circles as to what this means.

Mycroft does nothing without reason, his mind argues, this _must_ be a test. Does his brother want him to write for some inane reason? He tries, but gets no response. Does he want some kind of acknowledgement on the voice mail message Sherlock keeps being sent to before he'll respond? The messages left start off sharp, then progress to dismissive, then grow angry and heated. He finally leaves one, too late at night to be properly thought out, that apologises.

It does nothing. He smashes his phone the next day.

*

That's a bad idea. Being ignored is frustrating (and, he refuses to admit, unpleasant in other ways). But with the phone and the puzzle gone, he really does have _nothing_ to turn his attentions to.

The upside is that he stops feeling as though he's played into Mycroft's hands, because if that was the case, he's fairly sure Mycroft would have paid some attention to him.

*

Sherlock Holmes walks out a clean man, eventually. Clean is definitely the word for it- he feels like the blood in his veins has turned to antiseptic, ice cold, and everything feels just a little too bright and sharp-edged after so much time away. Once he gets back, he feels oddly out of place in his flat, which is all musky warm mess and a thick coating of soft dust.

A few days later, he gets a new phone. A few days after that, Mycroft rings him to make a pointed comment on the futility of not bothering to send the new number. He also makes a barbed comment about wasting the first one.

This time, it's Sherlock's turn to hang up. (He prefers to text anyway.)

*

In time, Mycroft will kidnap John, presumably to check if he's trustworthy, and be concerned. John thinks of this as another example of Sherlock's oddness, makes a joke about it running in the family, and makes Sherlock promise to never drag him home for Christmas.

Sherlock just notes, in a little file at the back of his mind that he doesn't like to look at, that Mycroft still won't come and see _him._


End file.
